The last few visitors – they spoke of the trouble in the north. That the Cleave is nearly abandoned now except for some scattered outposts. When I insisted they take my research, they looked at me as if quite mad – and told me the isle is fragmented, they say, the settlers at each other's throats over Azoth.
The days have bled together. The Withered seem to know my approach, but do not run – as if it is simply the cycle of the day. At times, it seems like they are welcoming me – as if someone familiar, as if family.
-M.H.
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